


Our Secret

by OhThatsViolet



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attending to wounds, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhThatsViolet/pseuds/OhThatsViolet
Summary: After a series of bad games, an injured Octavio starts to give up, until Elliott stumbles upon him and gives him the boost he needs to keep going.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Our Secret

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what the plot is. It's a bit of a projection honestly.

Being left to bleed out was up there with one of the most humiliating ways to go that Octavio could think of. It sucked; not only because of the mind-numbing pain you were left in once the adrenaline wore off, but because it was so...boring. He’d spent the last few minutes trying to cough up as much of his own blood as he possibly could, half-hoping it would speed up the dying process and he could wake up back in Respawn with only a hard blow to his ego. He was meant to do well this round. His mind had been all over the place since the games made the move to Olympus and it showed in his performance. He felt like every time he went online it was being talked about and his follower count had taken a dive. He’d been on top of his game before this, which only made the sting worse. Everyone had wanted a piece of him then, with every sponsor, every news site and fan vying for his attention. His nails dug into the ground as he dragged himself into one of the small buildings around Energy Depot, tucking himself into the back corner with the hope of finding some respite from the cameras. He felt like he was somebody back then. Now? He was on the fast track to becoming another nobody to be tossed aside and forgotten about. Again. 

Octavio set his weapons to the side with some force. Carrying them almost felt like a joke at this point. It's not like he was in any shape to defend himself if anyone found him here, though he was unsure if he even wanted to anymore. He couldn't even put himself out of his own misery because it would lead to disqualification for upcoming matches if anyone found out. The organisers were sick and twisted in their own way like that. Octavio let his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, finally allowing himself to release the groan of pain that had been stuck in his throat this whole time. He pulled his goggles up to rest on his forehead as he looked down to inspect his wound that sat just above his hip. It looked pretty bad and he didn't really have anything to patch himself up with. His eyes fell on the support wrappings around his wrist and he thought about undoing them, until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He sucked in his breath and tried to shrink into his hiding spot, the sudden shift in position forcing a pained whimper through his lips. 

It wasn't long until he was on the end of a gun barrel and he flinched on instinct, until the weapon was slowly lowered to reveal a very apprehensive-looking Elliott on the other side. His eyes flicked around, as if he was double checking they weren't being watched before putting his gun into its holster.   
"Where's your squad?"   
Octavio shrugged.   
"Dunno."   
The trickster kneeled down next to him.  
"Did you wander off on your own again?"   
Octavio shrugged again and averted his eyes, causing the other man to sigh heavily.   
"Tav, you can't keep-"   
"I don't want to hear it, okay?" the runner huffed. "Everyone else is already talking about how shit I am! I don't need you doing it too."   
"I wasn't going to."   
The pair fell silent and the tension between them grew heavy when they both remembered where they were.   
"So," Octavio began, through gritted teeth. "Can you do me a favour, now that you're here?"   
"What is it?"   
"Finish me off."   
Elliott's eyes fell on his holstered pistol.   
"You're...not m-my kill. Why would I bother?"   
"So you're just gonna leave me here to suffer? Die to the ring?" Octavio asked, a hint of annoyance to his tone. "I thought you loved me."   
"I do."   
"Then let me go home. I'm done with this shit." 

Octavio watched as his partner took his Wingman into his trembling hands. He shut his eyes as soon as the barrel came to rest against his forehead, feeling the cold of the metal even through his skullcap. He braced himself for an impact that never came and he opened his eyes to see a mournful expression painted all over his lover’s features while he tried to mask the quiver in the wrist.   
“Come on,” Octavio urged. “What are you waiting for?”   
He felt a sharp pang in his chest as he watched the trickster lower his weapon.   
“I...can’t.”  
“You can! You shoot people all the time!”   
“Y-yeah, but that’s...they’re not...you.”  
The runner sighed heavily and let his head fall back again.   
“You don’t have any booze in your pockets, do you?”   
Elliott shook his head with a half-amused smile.   
“Nope. Not this time. And besides, you don’t even drink.”  
“I think now would be a good time to start.”  
“You sound like you’re giving up.”  
“Maybe I am.” 

The trickster drummed his fingers on his thighs nervously, before turning to dig around in his backpack.   
“Let me fix you up,” he said, pulling out some medical supplies. “We can get you back out there.”  
Octavio shook his head in protest.   
“No, don’t use that shit on me,” he said. “You need it. One of us should win this thing today.”  
“Well it’s not going to be me,” Elliott replied, with an unamused snort. “Or didn’t you notice I’m alone too?”  
If Octavio was honest, the thought hadn't really crossed his mind. He was too preoccupied with the pain soaring up through him, which Elliott seemed adamant on attending to so he didn't bother to protest any further.   
"You know you can talk to me, right?" Elliott said gently, beginning to take anything he might need from his medkit. "About whatever it is that's bothering you."   
Octavio hummed quietly in response before letting out a hiss through his teeth as Elliott began to tend to his wound.   
"Ah, mierda. That hurts."   
"Sorry," the trickster replied, offering out his free hand to him. "Here. Squeeze."   
Octavio gripped his fingers tightly and bit down on his lower lip, while his partner continued to clean him up. 

Once he was satisfied the wound was properly cleaned, Elliott took a syringe from his supplies and offered it to his partner to inject himself with, to speed up the healing process and give him some pain relief. The runner watched his partner as he packed away the supplies he had left.   
"Elliott?"   
"Hmm?"   
"I love you."   
Elliott looked up and gave him a warm smile, before leaning over and kissing his forehead through his skull-cap.  
"Te amo, baby."   
Octavio grabbed his arm before he could pull away and tugged his mask down to rest under his chin, bringing his face up to meet his lover's in a sweet kiss. Elliott sighed contentedly and stroked his cheek lovingly with his thumb, like he always would when they were at home and could just be Elliott and Octavio, and their biggest worry was who was going to decide what they would have for dinner. Things were different here, but Elliott's gentleness and devotion towards him always seemed to stay the same. 

"You're making it really hard for a guy to want to leave," Elliott chuckled, flopping himself down onto the ground beside him.   
Octavio shuffled around, trying to make room for them both in the tight space.   
"If anyone catches us in here, they'll have our asses."   
"Since when do you care about getting in trouble? It'll be our secret," the trickster replied, giving his hand a firm squeeze and didn't let go. "I won't tell if you won't."   
"Hey, I'm no snitch."   
Elliott let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his curls before continuing.   
"Sometimes…I wonder if this is all worth it. I hate running into you like this. I hate not being on the same squad. Sometimes I think...maybe it's time to move on and do something else, but-"   
"But you don't know what else you could do?" Octavio finished for him. "Me neither. Sometimes I feel like I'm...stuck. Especially now that we’re...here."   
"The only thing you're stuck with is me," Elliott chimed in, nudging him playfully, causing him to laugh.   
"Oh, the horror," he quipped back. "How will I ever cope?"   
"We'll find a way," the trickster told him, hauling himself back onto his feet and offering his hand to his partner to help him up. "Come on. We should get moving."   
"I'll give you a headstart," Octavio said, stretching his limbs out.   
“How about this?” Elliott suggested, before leaving. "Whoever gets a higher placement gets to pick our take-out tonight."   
The runner considered it; at least it’d give him something to look forward to.   
"Alright. Deal." 

Octavio watched him leave, counting the beats in his head before he emerged back into the sun. He reloaded his R-99 and took off in the opposite direction to Elliott.   
"Okay. Time to end this pity party," he muttered to himself, spinning a vial of stim around his fingers. "And maybe those idiotas from earlier, with it." 


End file.
